


To Shake the Sky (When Wilt Thou Glitter?)

by SilverBird13



Series: Rule 63-Verse Series [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: F/F, Gen, Javert is internally sassy, Pre-Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not merely her penchant for giving dangerously generous alms, or for her blatant obsession with mercy.  No,  the unseemliness sinks past the good and gentle acts radiating from the mayor down into her very skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Shake the Sky (When Wilt Thou Glitter?)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I'll ever get sick of writing this series. It's complete self-gratification, but I hope you enjoy it. R&R?

Madame la Maire’s very being is disgraceful to the law, Javert thinks viciously.  
  
It is not merely her penchant for giving dangerously generous alms, or for her blatant obsession with mercy.  No,  the unseemliness sinks past the good and gentle acts radiating from the mayor down into her very skin.  
  
 _The woman, Javert decides at first glance, is not beautiful.  It is merely fact, not venom.  Her hair, though spun with silver, curls like a coquette’s, and she is slender despite her age, if wide at the shoulders for a woman.  But her jaw is too taunt, her face too pale with no blush to brighten it.  There is a downward, weak pull to her lips that speaks more to her past than the words that come out of it ever have._  
  
 _Javert finds her eyes, however, to be her worst feature.  They are sometimes sharp the way a magistrate’s should be, but more often than not remain deep-set and misty, clouded in a way she has only seen in the eyes of women decades older than this one._  
  
“Inspector, are you well?  We haven’t truly become acquainted, and yet I can see you are ill at ease.”  The calm but clumsy words and well-formed but hardened hand at the woman’s breast do nothing to quell Javert’s internal fuming.  She mentally curses herself to the seventh pit of Hell and forces a smile that is more biting than reassuring.    
  
“I am well, Madame.  Will you allow me to continue my report?”  
  
Madame Madeleine smiles, and her eyes crinkle unpleasantly ( _a mayor's face should be ivory, not clay_ ). 

“Please do. I look forward to the rest, Inspector.”


End file.
